


Only My Dreams

by Mertens



Series: The Cloths of Heaven [4]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, Erik has anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertens/pseuds/Mertens
Summary: If he can conquer his fears and overcome his self doubt, Erik just might have the kind of future he’s only dreamed of having.(continuation of Tread Softly and Of Night and Light and the Half-Light)
Relationships: Christine Daaé/Erik | Phantom of the Opera
Series: The Cloths of Heaven [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1219337
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	Only My Dreams

Erik sank a little deeper into the chair at the cafe table. There was no one near him, thankfully, but still the chatter and clatter of the other cafe patrons pressed in around him. 

_Christine is coming soon_

He tried to assure himself that everything was fine. He pulled out his pocket watch and looked at the time. It was almost exactly one minute since he had looked at it last. He tucked it away with a sigh. 

He turned quickly to catch the waiter staring at him from behind the pastry counter. The man looked away as soon as Erik noticed him staring. This was the waiter Christine had previously explained the situation to, and he knew not to approach Erik’s table until Christine was there with him. Until then, he would simply let Erik sit as long as Erik wanted, just like Christine had asked. 

Erik pulled his hat a little further down towards his eyes. He wanted to slide underneath of the table where no one could see him. Where was Christine? 

A moment later the cafe door opened, a little bell ringing to alert to the staff of the new arrival. 

Raoul stood near the door he had just come through, scanning the room until he saw the figure in the corner, just like Christine said he’d be. He rushed over to the table, slightly out of breath from running to the cafe so he wouldn’t be late. 

Erik shrank away from him and scowled as the boy approached his table, his eyes too bright, his smile too wide, his breathing too loud, his existence too annoying. 

“The devil are you doing here?” he snapped nervously, hoping too late that the boy wouldn’t tell Christine that he’d been rude to him. 

Raoul held out a folded piece of paper to Erik. He took it, his heart sinking as he realized this was Christine’s personal stationary. 

He opened it and read it, his fears confirmed. 

_Erik,  
I’m so sorry I won’t be able to keep our lunch date! The costume fitting is running long, and I won’t be out for another hour at least. I’m sending this note with Raoul and I want you to have lunch with him instead. Please try to talk to him. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I love you! - Christine_

Erik sighed and folded the note again, tucking it into the breast pocket of his jacket, right next to his heart. He pressed his hand over it, as though her words of love might try to flee somehow. 

He gave the boy a sour look, and Raoul simply smiled in return. 

“What did she tell you?” Erik asked, suspicious. 

“She said we could have lunch together!”

Erik groaned. He had hoped he could send the boy on his way and leave, but alas. 

He waved a hand at the chair across from him. 

“Sit, then,” he grumbled, and Raoul sat, pulling his chair up close to Erik and beaming. 

Erik could never understand why, exactly, but Raoul seemed utterly fascinated by him. His eyes roved over Erik’s mask in a most discomforting way. Erik squirmed a little. They had spoken on exactly two occasions before - when the boy had confronted him through the air vent in the floor about his intentions towards Christine, and then when they had met face-to-face a few weeks ago when Raoul had returned from the expedition and he and Christine had been there to greet him at the shipyard. 

Raoul folded his hands on the table and crossed his legs, still smiling widely. 

“How are you today?” he asked in an even tone. 

Erik shrugged in response. 

“It’s lovely weather, don’t you think?” Raoul persisted. 

Clearly Christine had coached him on how to behave towards him. 

Christine. 

Erik’s hand fluttered up to touch the note in his pocket. She had wanted Erik to actually converse with the boy, and he supposed he had to try, for her sake. He didn’t like talking to new people (and nearly everyone who wasn’t Christine was a new person), and he didn’t like being in public places, but Christine wanted a wedding, and she wanted Raoul at that wedding, so he knew he had to try. 

“It is... weather,” he conceded. 

The waiter stared at them, confused. What was he to do, now? Where was Christine? 

Erik glanced at him from the corner of his eye and stiffly gestured for him to come over. 

By the time he arrived at the table, Erik was staring intently at the menu in his hands even though he had been here a handful of times with Christine before and had stared at the menu enough to have it memorized. 

“What may I get for you, Monsieur?” the waiter asked. 

Erik pointed to the items he wanted on the menu, disappointed in himself for how the tightness in his throat made him unable to speak - normally he could muster up a few words to the waiters when he and Christine went out, but his routine was thrown off now that the boy was here, and he found words in short supply. Still, he hadn’t fled the building and he technically had spoken to Raoul, so perhaps that was still progress. 

The waiter took Raoul’s order next and swiftly left. 

An awkward silence settled over the table, and Erik dared to make eye contact with Raoul. He was still looking at him like he was the most interesting person in the world. Erik cleared his throat. 

“How was your expedition?” he asked stiffly. 

He hadn’t thought it possible for Raoul to look any more cheerful, but somehow he managed to. 

“Oh! It went quite well! Thank you for asking. It really was an experience. You see, we set out to-“

Raoul continued speaking about the expedition for an inordinate amount of time. The waiter brought their food and left once more. Still Raoul droned on and on and on. Would this boy ever stop talking? Erik’s eyes began to glaze over and he pressed his lips into a thin line. He appreciated that all he had to do was nod every now and then, but this was becoming excessive. 

He felt a brief jolt of panic that he might _never_ stop talking. But thankfully he began to pause as he started to eat his food, and Erik was gifted with blessed silence once more. It was, however, a gift that was short lived - for soon Raoul began to ask questions of Erik. 

“Do you come here often?”

“Occasionally. Whenever Christine wants cake,” he nodded towards the pastry case and made a mental note to buy a slice to take back home for her. 

“I take it there’s still no date set for the wedding?” 

The question was asked innocently enough, but it still felt like a punch in gut to Erik. The date for their wedding was entirely dependent on when Erik felt he could reasonably handle such a ceremony. As it stood, he was barely holding it together for a simple lunch. 

He frowned down at his plate. He knew Raoul hadn’t meant it like that, but he couldn’t help how it stung even so. 

“No, not yet.”

“Maybe you could order the cake from here for the party!”

He nodded. 

“Maybe.”

“Do you like the cake here?”

“It’s okay. Cake is more of Christine’s thing, really.”

“Do you not like sweets?”

“I prefer savory, and spicy.”

Raoul nodded thoughtfully. 

Erik was grateful that Raoul didn’t seem put off by his short answers. He knew he didn’t look like he was enjoying the conversation, but it wasn’t _terrible_ , not really. He was slowly starting to relax just a little around him. 

“Christine has always loved sweets,” Raoul smiled. “Even when we were children, she had quite a sweet tooth.”

“Oh?” 

He had forgotten, briefly, that the two had been friends when they were younger... very good friends... Erik had his suspicions, but hadn’t brought them up to Christine for fear of finding out. 

“I remember how often we stopped in the sweets shop on the way to the park or the river... Christine always had to get a bag full of chocolates and lemon drops... She’d put extras in the bag when Mamma Valerius, our chaperone, wasn’t looking.”

“Did she?” Erik mused. 

It was interesting to hear about young Christine. He wondered if she still snuck extra sweets that Erik didn’t know about. He pictured her sneaking off to this very cafe to order cakes Erik knew nothing about, and though he supposed he should be concerned for how all the sugar would affect her voice, he couldn’t help but find it rather endearing. Christine had a sneaky side, apparently, and he loved it. 

“Oh, yes! She’s quite a character, really. I’m sure you know by now. She’s a very good girl, don’t get me wrong - but, well... She’s not afraid to get what she wants. Why, I don’t think I’ll ever forget those times when we were all out together and Valerius wasn’t looking, and Christine used to steal-“

Raoul suddenly stopped talking, his cheery expression vanishing. He leaned back in his chair, swallowing hard. 

Erik’s brow furrowed. 

“Steal what?” 

“N-nothing,” he said, eyes darting away. 

Now Erik was getting mad. How dare this boy accuse his beautiful bride of being a thief! Christine was a virtuous, upright girl! She would _never_ -! 

“You take that back,” Erik demanded. “Christine is not a thief! She would never steal a thing!” 

Raoul fidgeted with his napkin, looking awkward. 

“No, no, she’s not a thief, that’s not what I meant-“

“Then what the devil was she supposedly stealing?”

Raoul shrugged apologetically. 

“Stealing _kisses_ , Erik,” he said sheepishly. 

Erik, who had been leaning forward over the table to fight Raoul (with his words, if not his lasso), sunk back down in his chair. 

“Oh,” he breathed. 

Kisses. Of course. 

_Of course_ Christine had kissed other boys. She’d dated enough of them! He’d known she’d kissed people before, she’d even complained to him back before they had become engaged about the lack of quality in kisses she’d had with previous dates. It had never bothered him before, not any more than that strange feeling in his chest when he thought of her with someone else. But even still, it had never kept him up at night. 

Then again, he’d also never had to have lunch with any of the boys she’d kissed before. 

She’d also never cared about of those other boys, not the way she still held affection for Raoul. 

He was suddenly inundated with questions and concerns - was Raoul a better kisser than him? Did she ever miss kissing Raoul? What if Erik wasn’t very good at kissing? How would he even know? What if she hated kissing him but was too polite to say so? Should he ask her for a critique on his kissing? 

For a mad half second, he very nearly wanted to demand that the boy kiss him, just so he could see how he stacked up against his own technique. Perhaps he’d learn something! Wouldn’t Christine be surprised when her ugly fiancé returned that evening and kissed her just like her old childhood sweetheart used to! 

The half second passed, and along with it, the madness. 

Erik became consumed with cutting up his food with a knife and fork, even though he had ordered a sandwich. Raoul watched anxiously, hoping he hadn’t upset him. He took a sip of water, searching for something to say. 

“This really is a lovely cafe,” he tried. 

“Oh, yes, very lovely,” Erik was just as eager to leave the other subject behind them. “What were you saying earlier, about your expedition?”

Raoul took the opportunity to speak of anything else but his past relationship with Christine, and Erik relaxed into the mindless chatter as much as he could. 

Eventually he pulled out his pocket watch to look at it again - he knew it looked rude to do so, but he desperately wanted to know the time. He had been there for a little over an hour now. That was usually how long he stayed there with Christine, too. He frowned at his plate - he really hadn’t eaten very much, and though he felt guilty for seemingly wasting the rest and risking offending the chef, he didn’t have much of an appetite at all. He never did, when he was out. But Christine had always said it was okay, that the ordering of the meal and the attempting to eat it was more important than how much he actually ate. 

Raoul took the hint. He had finished with his own meal long ago, anyway. 

“Do you have any plans, after this?”

Erik shook his head. 

“No. Just going home.”

“Would you like some company on the way back?”

“No!” he said quickly, then tried to appear polite. “No, thank you, I mean.”

Raoul smiled good-naturedly. 

“Of course. Oh! Here, let me get the bill, please,” he offered, seeing Erik teaching for his wallet. 

“That’s quite alright,” Erik frowned. 

“No, no, I insist!”

“But I was going to-“

He was going to order a slice of cake for Christine. If he ordered it now, on Raoul’s bill, that would be like _Raoul_ buying her a slice of cake. That wouldn’t do _at all_. 

He put his wallet away. 

“Well, if you insist...”

Raoul gladly paid the lunch bill, and Erik accompanied him out the door. They parted with kind and polite farewells, and then Erik circled back around to go inside the cafe again. 

He ordered a slice of decadent chocolate cake to placed in a box, and thanked the waiter both verbally (now that he felt less anxious after being in the cafe for so long) and with a generous tip. 

He might not have an adorable face that caused Christine to want so badly to kiss him behind her chaperone’s back, but at least he could buy her chocolate cake. 

She was already in the little house by the underground lake when he returned. 

“Christine, I’m back,” he called out. 

“I’m in our room, darling,” she called in return. 

He breathed a sigh of relief that stayed where she was. She knew by now that he needed some time to be by himself after returning from a strenuous trip above. He deposited the cake box in the kitchen and sipped some cold water for a few moments. 

Feeling refreshed, he finally sought her out in the room that used to be hers but had become theirs. 

She was folding clean laundry and placing them into the drawers of her dresser. 

“How did it go?” she asked, still folding. 

It made him smile, the absurdity of seeing the opera star Christine Daaé in the midst of such a mundane and domestic task. 

He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close and burying his face in her hair. He stood like that a long moment, not saying anything. It really had been a stressful day. 

She smiled as she patted her own hand over his as they clasped together at her waist. She was terribly proud of him for braving a lunch without her. 

“Did you and Raoul used to date?” he murmured into her hair, his voice slightly muffled. 

Her breath stuck in her throat for a second. She’d never told him, not outright. She couldn’t lie to him, either. 

“Yes,” she finally said. “We used to. That was forever ago though, Angel.”

He was quiet, thinking back to his concerns over lunch. 

“Do you ever wish you were kissing him, instead of me?” he asked in a small voice. 

She turned around in his embrace and wound her arms around his neck. He was being ridiculous again. She shook her head, smiling. 

“You’re the one I’m marrying, Erik - not Raoul.”

And then she stood on her toes and kissed him soundly. 

“Does that convince you?” she murmured as she pulled back. 

“Hmmm... I suppose. There’s chocolate cake for you in the kitchen, my dear.”

She laughed. 

“Was that chocolate cake dependent on my answer to your question?”

“Oh, of course,” he answered gravely. “If you had picked Raoul, I would need that chocolate cake much more than you would.”


End file.
